I'm Not A Real Doctor But They Call Me Doctor Worm

So I saw a doctor in Lexington. It was less of a diagnosis and more of a guesstimation. He glanced up my nose and mumbled, "Allergies. You have allergies."

I've had allergies all my life and they've never made me cough up a gizzard like this.

He prescribed some antihistamine nasal spray called Astilin (catchy!) and an antibiotic. Seemed pretty standard for him. In fact, he had a little cough of his own and was taking Astilin himself. He also prescribed it to Kay. Cure-all, anyone?

But whatever, I'll try anything once. Well, okay that's not true at all. There are a lot of things I won't try: squid, cocaine, ritual blood sacrifices... Astilin, however, is fine.

And surprise of surprises, it's been helping. I sprayed an unpleasant spritz into my nostrils once last night and once this morning and I think the clouds are clearing in SinusLand. I'm still coughing like a seasoned smoker with a deathwish, though. I'll let you know in a few days.

Kay warned me against taking the antibiotic, cause I've already taken two courses of antibiotics since I've been on this tour and I don't know, my head would probably explode if I took another.

Best to be safe with these things.

Last night we stayed at The Cincinnatian. It was really cool, but in creepy way. The lobby was all decked out for the holidays with soul-less little animatronic people welcoming us. In the room, somebody left me a cookie...just sort of sitting out:


There was also Christmas music playing. How charming, right? Except the volume was so low that I didn't notice it at first and then I thought I was hearing a choir inside my brain cells. It took me a few minutes to discover where it was coming from. Clock radio.

I thought this was sweet though:


And I really liked the giant window: